A Tale of Two Kalyanis

Red Corner
Rashid Khan

Jyoti Goho (Harmonium)
Shubhankar Banerjee (Tabla)

Yaman in Vilambit and Drut Teental
Short Khyal in Kauns derivative of Kokilapriya/Gowrimanohari - Teental
Thumri in Mishra Pahadi
Aaj Radha Brak ko Chali - Bhairavi

Blue Corner
Sanjay Subrahmanyan

Nagai Muralidharan (Violin)
Srimushnam Raja Rao (Mrudangam)
Neyveli Venkatesh (Kanjira)

Bharatiyar Composition in Kedaram (S)
Rama Neeve – Narayani – Rupakam - Thyagaraja (R)
Nijadasavarada – Kalyani – Adi – Patnam Subrahmanya Iyer – RNST
Rara Raghu Veera – Attana – Adi – Thyagaraja
RTP – Vellai Thamarai – Abheri - Misra Chapu

The similarities began with the shock of hennaed hair glistening in the arc lights. Their timbres were chips from the same block, etched by analogous rings of strain and overuse. Oh, and for those who are unfamiliar with the professional fortunes of one or the other, Ustad Rashid Khan and Vidwan Sanjay Subrahmanyan are also Chakravarthies of their respective domains, north and south of the Vindyas. With both raising Yaman/Kalyani as their battle standard, it was hard not be drawn into a comparison. It did not hurt that they were both beset by physical limiting factors, forcing them deeper into the wellsprings of creativity in their search for Nadabrahmam.

The Grand Moghul started with some distinct advantages. For one, his army of chords was a whole octave wider in range. His steed, the Boltaan, was a trailblazing Ferrari whereas the Chola Raja’s Brigha was, at best, a Hyundai Santro (dark grey in color!). In terms of artillery arrangements, the northerner’s phalanx of andolans and meends was far more sophisticated than the overused kampita gamaka of his opponent. nRGM-NDM-GMPDP-GDP growled King Khan, cutting loose with a lightning sargam….Thalaivar could only respond with a meek varja phrase. Rashid Bhai really should have won hands down…

But Sanjay was equipped with a quality that helped Alexander cut through the formidable Persian army and the Russians weather the Blitzkrieg – the Brahmastra of passion edged with steely will. For Rashid Khan, it was new territory and the invigorating smell of exotic blood. The Academy was ready and waiting for reaper’s scythe. Alas, Yaman pottered about awkwardly, on the back of His wayward Buffalo whose bellows had lost the deadly edge of its salad days. After huffing and puffing for an hour and a half, with his noose entangled in all sorts of knots, the God of Death and his errant vahana were chivvied to an inglorious exit while rasikas hoping for a ride to Vaikuntham, hopped aboard 17C instead.

Kalyani too had her share of problems with her carrier but the lion was made of sterner stuff than its ungainly counterpart. While its roar failed to shock the audience into submission, it devised some crafty maneuvers around its prey to get maw on neck. When its teeth were found wanting in strength, it employed its hands, feet, claws…anything to hold on to its quarry - a kanakku here, an extra punch in the sangathi there…The effort was somewhat labored but the objective was reasonably achieved – most rasikas would have missed the last 17C that day.

Sanjay’s defence of his fortress was ably assisted by Air Marshal Nagai Murali’s soaring alaapanas, which ran rings around Jyoti Goho’s unmaneouverable reed-box, while the majestic gait of Srimushnam’s cavalry trampled over the wild horses let loose by Subhankar Bannerjee’s tabla.

The assault from the north was thus repulsed but there is an internal unrest that will demand Sanjay’s attention in the days to come. TM Krishna for one staked his claim to the throne with a very vocal Kambhoji…Ah, but that is a titanic tussle that will take many years to unfold….many interesting years…

Late Season Concerts

Hyderabad Brothers

Narada Gana Sabha, 24 December 2007

Mysore Manjunath (Violin)
Karaikkudi Mani (Mrudangam)
V Suresh (Ghatam)

Navaragamalika Varnam – Adi
Teliyaleru Rama – Dhenuka – Adi – Thyagarajar (S)
Brochevarevare – Sriranjani – Adi – Thyagaraja (RS)
Ranganathude – Saurashtram – Rupakam – Ponniah Pillai (R)
Paramdhamavathi – Dhamravathi – Rupakam – Deekshitar (RNS)
Dandamu Bettanura – Balahamsa – Adi – Thyagaraja
Dasarathe – Thodi – Adi – Thyagaraja – (RNST)

The bhagavathars and scholars in the auditorium wore a dissatisfied look. “Bah! Hindusthani!” carped one. “A mutilated Kalyani”, caviled another. Others with less sensitive ears merely looked lost. Suspended between the purist’s unbending grammar and the layman’s discomfort with unfamiliarity, Seshachary’s pronounced Karvais on the Madhyamam and the Nishadam for his essay in Dharmavathi met with a rather unenthusiastic response. Except for a lone bloke whose vigorous applause seemed as odd as the alaapana that prompted it – yours truly.

As a source code for melodic programming, the Melakartha scheme ought to have been a musician’s dream come true. But that begins to sound a little hopeful when one considers the limitations of the average imagination. It takes a genius like St Thyagaraja, to catalyze a theoretical classification into some of the most original and haunting tunes known to man. Thus, where the greats have shown the path, a Kharahapriya or Keeravani does not unduly tax the musician’s Manodharma…but where he is left to grope with his own lantern, Dharmavathi being a case in point, he either risks venturing into a minefield that could blow up his concerts, or treats the non-standard scales as the proverbial elephant in the room. Most of us have a few births to go through before we can even begin to comprehend the magnitude of the Trinity’s greatness and Seshachary is probably no exception. But the duty of the honest musician is to chip away at the edifice of such ragas with the chisel of his imagination, irrespective of the Sisyphean unlikelihood of a recognizable structure emerging in the foreseeable future. It is to this spirit that the contrarians in the audience paid homage. The rasika emerged from the alaapana, none the wiser about Dharmavathi’s melodic structure but there were enough oblique hints and suggestions to equip inquisitive minds with some handy reference material to work with.

The “extraordinary rendition” of Dharnavati was just one of the examples of a typical Hyderabad Brothers presentation with creative juices at times tending to flood the pipelines to the soul. Thodi was a crooked affair and while Saurashtram was a more orthodox essay, Seshachary’s restless brain could not entirely resist the possibilities opened up by the two Nishadas. Actually it would have been quite interesting if he had tried to force open the devil’s door instead of merely knocking.

It is time for Narada Gana Sabha to emulate the good example of its more northern neighbor further down TTK Road. Karaikkudi Mani’s naadam was ravaged by the audio system and Suresh’ pot was barely audible. They soldiered on, however, to produce an enjoyable tani in which Mishram singled out for exploration and eventual reduction, laying the pitch for a classic KRM Korvai of four Avarthas in Chatushram and Tishram.

Manjunath had a fine day on the violin, hanging on admirably to Seshachary’s disorienting sorties before taking over the cockpit to ensure safe landings on familiar territory.


TM Krishna
Music Academy, 29 December 2007

Mysore Manjunath – Violin
Karaikkudi Mani – Mriangam
V Suresh - Ghatam

Sami Daya Judara - Kedaragowlai – Adi
Sri Nathadhi Guruguho - Mayamalavagowlai – Adi (S)
Ela Nee Daya Radu - Atana – Adi
Thillai Chidambaram - Purvikalyani - Misra Chapu (RNS)
Amba Paradevate - Rudrapriya - Khanda Chapu
Mari Mari Ninne - Kambodhi - Adi (RNST)

The pause on the rishabham during the Kambhoji alaapana was right out of Prof. Sambamurthy’s book. To be precise, Book 3 page 361, where the author holds forth on Kedaragaula. Refrains of PD2SN3, PD2SN3 that would have given Mysore Vasudevachar some nice ideas for the Pallavi of Sree Chamundeshwari in Bilahari. According to a friend who has an ear for these things, Khamas was invoked in the beginning. Krishna’s Khamboji may have been better without such grammatical bloopers. Hmmm…italicize “may”… add an inflection of uncertainty. Actually, abandon the thought altogether…A perfect Kambhoji is not too hard to find and I’ve heard a few this season – perfect, and perfectly boring. I prefer the imperfectly brilliant variety I heard that day…

This rasika has heard TM Krishna at least 50 times over the last few years. The wide eyes of disbelief that first greeted the cover drives and square cuts flashing forth from the stage now allow themselves to roll occasionally. With time, the student evolves along with his teacher which, in a sense, is the term that best describes my relationship with artistes of his stature. Ingenuous applause and unqualified praise give way to a pettifogging undercurrent of skepticism. Vocal slips are pompously pointed out, forgotten sahithya smirked at. But every once in a while the student’s attention is diverted from his trifling repertoire of nitpicks, and goes back to the wide eyes and goose-bumps of his initiation. The would-be critic finds his pen flushed of its acid and dripping, instead, with a fan’s unrestrained words of admiration. Thus transported, the rasika is in a state of indifference bordering on blindness, with respect to such matters as grammatical peccadilloes, sruthi lapses and running kalapramanam…All of which happened. And none of which mattered a whit.

Having already stretched the reader’s credulity, it would be unwise of me to attempt an objective assessment but if I were to triangulate the pinnacle of this Himlayan concert, Everest would lie in the vicinity of Krishna’s Mari Mari Ninne and its cascading avalanche of sangathis. I must mention here, that it must have taken an extraordinarily insensitive person to molest such a divine composition, as I believe was done by one of our “eminent” music directors.

Krishna’s awesome juggernaut owed its majesty, in no small measure, to the thundering rolls of Karaikkudi Mani’s Mrudangam and V Suresh’s Ghatam. The tricky vinyasa had my mind crunching numbers all the time but I could come up with nothing more complicated than Tisram. My overworked brain finally sputtered to a halt in the korvai but the concluding phrases appeared to be in Mishram.

Among the few troughs of the concert was Manjunath’s alaapana in Purvikalyani – hearing his scratchy patterns around the constants, the latecomer would be forgiven for identifying the rendition as a Jod in Sohni. His Kambhoji, although a tad lengthy, was a less tawdry display. The concluding section of the Neraval was also the usual bhel-puri of swara, sahithya and tala – a spicy high-calorie mixture with zero nutritive value for the soul. Substituting this Molotov cocktail with a measured koraippu could be considered to achieve a more aesthetic climax.

There was no time for an RTP. For once, this is meant as a compliment.

Margazhi Bhajans

I was never a morning person. 6 AM is a time that usually finds me starring in the escapist fantasies of a brain that is not quite ready to accept a return to the real world. Five? Except for the rare occasion when I am recruited into an NRI reception party, I’ve never seen the hour. Perhaps I ought to have given that a thought that before agreeing to chauffeur mom to join the Bhajana Goshtis around Mylapore. Oh, I wanted to go too - but the inconvenience of the hour struck me only when…well, only when the hour actually struck!

The duet with Aishwarya Rai was, therefore, truncated just as she was belting out some cracking kannakus at ¼ idam, which I was all set to replicate in tisram…a few sobering minutes of wakefulness later, my calculations were demoted to the rather less romantic application of estimating whether I had enough petrol to get to Mylapore. A comatose drive followed, which terminated at the intended destination only because my fellow-drivers were alert enough to get out of the Brownian trajectory of my car.

I hung around awkwardly after I got out, with my desire for inconspicuousness severely compromised by the tele-zoom sticking out of my chest. Mom, evidently blessed with superior social skills, was already dispensing her latest kitchen secrets to group of madisars, which, as it turned out, was the better half of the goshti we were searching for …she looked up from her lecture and waved me in….I guess it was OK for me to tag along – not the first time that I was benefiting from her culinary expertise!

Our retinue set off from the main Gopuram and snaked along the Mada streets, bobbing in and out of the streetlights’ glare. I’d race in front of the group to snatch a shot every time the luminance climaxed. The organizer, a stocky gentleman with an intimidating moustache, caught up with me on one of these sallies, dropping a heavy arm on my shoulder. I thought I was going to be arrested…he merely wanted some copies of the photos!

The harmonium sent out a plaintive call to the wavering dawn. A street vendor nearby, rolled over on his cart, raising a groggy hand against the din. He wasn’t quite ready yet. A more energetic invitation was essayed at the next crossing where the corner of the tank points towards the Ramakrishna Mutt. The Dholak stirred and the first bus roared past, winking in approval at the catchy beat. The goshti burst into “Paalvadiyuam Mukham” in Nattaikurinji, prompting the waters of the tank to lick its walls in anticipation. The promise of morning’s milk perhaps?

We quickened our pace, setting up a fevered crescendo near the Kovil’s rear entrance. Aroused, Day peeped out to survey the commotion and the temple threw open its arms in a hearty welcome. As we entered the sanctum a few minutes later, night’s reticent curtain was finally swept aside, and a hushed silence greeted the awesome light of Kapalishwarar’s first diurnal gaze.

6 AM is a time that usually finds me starring in the escapist fantasies of a brain that is not quite ready to accept a return to the real world.

So it was that morning.

Season Concerts 1

Roundup of Early Season Concerts

BVB 8/12/2007

K Gayatri
L Ramakrishnan (Violin)
Arjun Ganesh (Mrudangam)

Era Napai – Thodi Varnam – Adi
Sree Mahaganapathi – Attana – Adi (S) - ??
Karunajoodavamma – Varali – Misra Chapu – Syama Sastri (RNS)
Kripajuchutakuvelara – Chayatarangini – Adi – Thyagaraja
Sathatham – Kharaharapriya - Adi (RNST) - Swathi Thirunal

Ranjani & Gayathri
HN Bhaskar (Violin)
Arun Prakash (Mrudangam)
S Karthick (Ghatam)

Brihandambika – Vasantha – Misra Chapu – Deekshitar (S)
Kanugonu – Nayaki – Rupakam – Thyagaraja
Kanthachoojumi – Vachaspathi – Adi – Thyagaraja
Thyagaraja Yoga Vaibhavam – Ananda Bhairavi – Rupakam – Deekshitar
Ninnada – Kannada – Adi – Thyagaraja
Enneramum – Thodi – Adi – Marimutha Pillai

Thanks to the superstar sisters scheduled to grace the stage after her concert, K Gayatri found herself singing to a full house. The crowds may not have come to listen to her but her music deserved all those ears and hands and some more. The opener in Thodi revealed a strong voice that was in solid control even in the second speed. Both the alaapanas were well handled, with her adventurous streak especially evident in the Kharaharapriya essay - this also led to the occasional slip as when a desired landing on the panchamam after some tara sthayi phrases overshot the runway. The rendition of the krithi was also an ordinary patch for the 3 artistes, all of whom had played their exceptionally well until then: Arjun Ganesh seemed somewhat insensitive to the structure of the krithi while Ramakrishnan appeared to be groping in the dark. Both however made up in the swara and tani avarthanam sections respectively. Gayathri is one of the juniors well on her way to prime-time, as I suspect are her accompanists yesterday

Ranjani and Gayatri began brightly with a brisk krithi in Vasantha, sauteed with some quick swaras. The young woman on the tanpura nodded repeatedly, as if to convey the appreciation of her instrument - the sisters' enunciation is almost perfect leaving nary a blotch on the critic's book...The alaapana in Vachaspati continued the good work and while Thyagaraja Yoga Vaibhavam had a little more helium than appropriate, the mellifluous swirl of the resultant balloon was not without its charms. Kannada was yet another example of dazzling speeds handled with impeccable diction and absolute tonal fidelity but was should have been the launching point for the summit assualt turned out to be a gentle slope earthwards - the main piece needed more time and while I have nothing against abhangs one wondered about the advisability of setting apart 45 minutes for tukkadas in a 2 hour concert. The megh/megh malhar(??) was enchanting enough (prompting me to remark that the siblings would do well to make formal forays into HM - this is meant as a genuine compliment and is not to be construed as sarcasm) but the truncated Thodi and tani left one with a saccharine aftertaste where there should have been the full bodied headiness of draksha-rasa...

The violinist's Thodi was brilliant and Arun Prakash bamboozled the hands with his trademark brand of mathematical witchcraft which his partner on the Ghatam, the freshly minted Doctor, resonantly reproduced. Doubly disheartening then, to see such extraordinary skill being wasted on a dhinchak jhaptal that is more the bailiwick of the street drummer...The audience response was expectedly disproportionate with the tail-pieces fetching the maximum applause.

Nungambakkam Cultural Academy 9/12/2007 – 7 PM

Neyveli Santhanagopalan
Sriranjani Santhanagopalan (Support)
Pakkala Ramadas (Violin)
Thiruvarur Bhakthavatsalam (Mrudangam)
BS Purushottaman (Kanjira)

Karunimpa Idi – Sahana Varnam – Adi – Thiruvottiyur Thyagayya
Ra Ra Ma Intidaka – Asaveri – Adi – Thyagaraja (S)
Mamava Sadha – Nattaikurinji – Rupakam – Swathi Thirunal (NS)
Ka Va Va – Varali – Adi – Papanasam Sivan (RS)
Annapoorne – Syama – Adi – Deekshitar (NS)
Intha Sowkhya – Kapi – Adi – Thyagaraja (RNST)

The atmosphere at the Karnataka School’s auditorium wasn’t exactly electric – the lighting was gloomy and attendance stats, gloomier still…a lesser artiste would have sulked, a mere professional would have simply got on with the job…but to discover within oneself, the resonances and pulsations that were glaringly absent in the surroundings, is the trait of a rare musical specimen – the Vidyaarthi.

Sunday’s sumptuous smorgasbord featured Kaapi as the main course but before queasy stomachs start churning, let me defer to an abler pen in describing the loftiness of Vidyaarthiji’s effort – “Swararaga Laya Sudha Rasa”, which was also the neraval line.

The artiste’s was joined in his divine communion by a sensitive bunch of accompanists. The young lad on the violin was highly interpretative in his approach and the steaming cascades of Kaapi he received from the vocalist were duly poured back with an added layer of froth. Bhakthavatsalam and Purushottaman were vigilant bean counters, adding measured doses of mishram to the heady brew.

I’d been eyeing the poori-masala at the canteen before the concert started but by the time I got out, they were all sold out…besides, after such a strong dose of Kaapi, the appetite needed no further indulgence.

Brahma Gana Sabha - 10/12/2007

Vijay Siva
Lalgudi Vijayalakshmi (Violin)
Neyveli Narayanan (Mrudangam)

Nadatanumanisham – Chittaranjani – Adi – Thyagaraja
Vidulakumrokkeda – Mayamalavagowla – Adi – Thyagaraja (S)
Sankari Nee – Begada – Rupakam – Syama Shastri (R)
Amba Vani – Keeravani – Adi – HMB – (N)
Nambi Kettavar – Kalyani – Misra Chapu – Purandaradasar (RNS)
Palayamam Bruhadeeshwara – Nayaki – Rupakam – Deekshitar
Kamakshi – Bilahari – Adi – Deekshitar (RNST)
Tukkadas
Mangalam

My stats prof, (one Mr. Rahul Mukherjee who honoured me with grades that were, ahem…at some distance from the comforting cusp of the normal curve) was a devotee of the law of averages and held a grudge against anyone who threatened to violate its sanctity. It used to be Sachin Tendulkar in those days but it could just as easily be Vijay Siva, as far as Carnatic Music is concerned.

I am happy to note that my professor’s bad dream continues. However, one feels a certain restraint which reduces what ought to be a slam dunk to a subtler, but less climactic, lay-up. Perhaps, this is exactly the artiste’s intention and it is the caviling rasika who needs to refine, or worse redefine, his musical values.

The skewed audio balance took some of the sheen out of Thyagaraja’s musical discourse (Nada Tanumanisham) and placed it instead on the mrudangist head – I am not alluding to Shri Neyveli Narayanan’s receding hairline which, admittedly, can claim to have achieved certain reflective effects of its own!

The soundman soon got his act together and the second Thyagaraja song came leaping out of the mrudangist’s shell. Moving on, Vijay Siva’s Kalyani was pure Gangajal from the mouth of Gomukh and while Vijayalakshmi’s concoction was sweeter, it appeared to be flavored with a few drops from the river’s conjoined twin. The geographical analogy was more firmly established by the pieces that followed – the flow of the concert was subjected to gravitational certainties after that point although, like the Ganges meandering through the cow belt, majesty of expression made up, to some extent, for lost vigor.

A brief countercurrent was engineered by Narayanan, who was a bit of a hero that evening, with some deliciously distracting patterns lacing the vocalist’s ideas. Freed from these, he went on to weave a magnificent tapestry of tisram.

Some ebbs and tides in the flow then, but still strong enough “on an average” to sweep away the foolhardy foot that ventures to measure its depth…and send it tumbling in the direction of the mouth. Mr. Mukherjee, you’ve flunked again!

The Seasoned Tourist

“Enchanting Tamil Nadu”, goes the state government’s tagline for promoting tourism, with accompanying photos of soaring gopurams and nimble dancers leaving no doubt about the nature of enchantment being proffered. Notwithstanding its abundant endowment of beaches, hill stations and wildlife sanctuaries, it is from the lofty pedestal of its cultural edifice that Tamil Nadu reaches out to the tourist’s wallet…And with over 3000 glittering jewels from the state’s bountiful legacy of cultural treasures on display in the month of December, the Margazhi Mahotsavam ought to be a shoo-in as the state’s showcase tourism attraction. Actually, the event scarcely even finds a mention in government’s tourism promotion efforts.

Considering its bewildering magnitude, the December Music Season is a somewhat self-effacing creature, accessible only to the determined seeker. Indeed, but for a few apologetic bill-boards, in their fifteenth year of recycling and arts supplements cocooned inside ever-bulging reams dedicated to page 3 panjandrums, the casual visitor would be hard pressed to infer from the streets of Mylapore and T Nagar, the happening of any more significant an event than a high school fete. Unsurprisingly, a large majority of the state’s 40 million domestic and 1.5 million international visitors, many of whom arrive during the “peak tourist month” of December, pass through Chennai, blissfully unaware of this cultural phenomenon.

After accounting for the odd westerner trying to reconcile the Lonely Planet’s evocative descriptions of the Music Season with the ramshackle auditorium that confronts him, “season tourists” can broadly be divided into two categories: For the non-resident Tamilian back home on vacation, the season is essentially a bunch of conveniently located speak-easies that provide an attractive number of eyeballs for their Calvin Kleins and Kanjeevarams. Add to that, the temptations of the canteen fare, and it is no wonder that the performances themselves are interesting, but not indispensable, side shows.

The serious music tourist, on the other hand, is a rarer, and more diverse, species ranging from reputed musicians with packed performance schedules to keen-eyed culture vultures, thrilled to have picked out a priceless gem from the rubble of cultural kitsch-fests worldwide. For Margazhi’s natural reticence hides a gale force that would sweep away all the mud sloshed, splattered and smeared at Woodstock: Season 2006 featured over 3000 performances and while some of these grandiloquently titled “Sabhas” are nothing but fronts for pushy parents to promote their children, the sheer numbers are reason enough for the curious rasika to pause in the middle of her Thodis and Sankarabharanams, and wonder why such an event does not engage a wider audience.

Her train of thought would eventually lead her through the tunnels of esotericism which eclipse the interest of many a wannabe rasika. This is especially true of Carnatic Music which, unlike Bharathanatyam, does not have the benefit of visual appeal or universally understood emoticons to negotiate cultural barriers. Nor are the majority of musicians equipped to provide convent-accented annotations to their performances, leaving the neophyte at sea in the middle of shaking heads and shaken notes.

Information would, therefore, appear to be the missing ingredient that robs the Season of a stronger extra-regional flavour. But that branch of thought is weighed down by so many low-hanging fruit as to threaten it with an awkward collapse. A kiosk at Chennai airport is one such no-brainer. But an unreasonable expectation, nevertheless, from the TTDC’s sleepy counter. How about brochures, booklets, schedules, profiles leaflets, handouts? Nyet, unless you know exactly what you are looking for and where to look for it.

Save for dilapidated banners and perfunctory arts supplements then, the December Season is an inner circle of the initiates. Rather an unfortunate situation for a festival whose information needs go well beyond dates and venues. Some sabhas do offer lec-dems but dissertations on nadai pallavis and adavus, are unlikely to be of interest to greenhorns, flailing for a grip on the fundamentals. And those that muster the patience to sit through such sessions often find themselves dragged along nostalgia trips that tend to dissolve in a welter of tears for days gone by…

Some would question the very desirability of increased tourist attention, thanks to its well documented potential for cultural pollution. While commercial interests as diverse as housing finance and mobile phones are slowly discovering the depth of rasikas’ pockets, rare is the businessman whose concern for the bottom-line is completely detached from cultural leanings. Likewise, the Sabha Secretary suffers the hassles of the Season as much for the art that graces his gates as the net receipts there-from. Given this tenuous balance between artistic merit and the catcalls of the market, the purists' concerns about an invasion of philistine tourism dollars are not entirely unfounded.

But the reconciliation of cultural and economical interests does have precedents worthy of emulation. The Salzburg festival in Austria, for instance, hosts about 250,000 visitors and over 200 concerts of unimpeachable classicism along the banks of the Salzach every year. Regrettably, Margazhi has to make do with the rather less inspiring backdrop of the Cooum. While this would no doubt cause a good proportion of potential tourists to turn up their noses at the Season, the event’s olfactory handicap is just a minor discord in a complex cacophony whose chief refrains include choked parking lots, inconsiderate amplification and arctic air-conditioning.

However, addressing the rasikas’ long-neglected wish-list would require Margazhi to plunge deeper into its illicit dalliance with commerce. The Salzburg Festival, for example, has a budget of over 10 Million US Dollars. A fraction of that money would transport rasikas into a state of bliss that would otherwise take an MS Subbulakhsmi to achieve but reigning in rampaging economic interests would be a hard challenge. Moreover, a large proportion of Salzburg’s receipts is publicly funded which, in the Indian context, is just more fuel for skepticism.

Inadequate recognition of South India’s classical art forms may be a common gripe among its fans but their demand for a “Chakkani Raja Margamu” for the Season changes to a more cautious “Nidhi Tsala Sukhama?” when the pitfalls along the high road to fame and fortune are considered.

November Rain - Hindu's Music Fest

Time to wake up sleepy-head...with the Season's frenzy coming to an end along with the drowziness of winter mornings, some musical musings should work as well as mom's decoction...Let's start with three snippets from the Novemberfest:

Fateh Ali Khan, 10th November, 2007

I came with sky high expectations (literally - I flew down just to catch the Ustad!) but landed on rubble. It was supposed to be Fateh Ali Khan's concert but was wholly hijacked by his son Rustam, who was introduced as one of the brightest stars in the firmament of Pakistani Classical Music. Sorry if this sounds a tad jingoistic but that unlikely claim does not say much about the health of classical music in MusharaffabadAs Rustam frequently took pains to mention, the Patiala Gharama is known for its assertive style, sargams and layakari...but Bade, or even lesser mortals like Ajoy Chakraborty, never used their vocal power to submerge all traces of subtlety and feeling....or bend the tanpura out of shape as Rustam heartlessly did. For someone used to Bade's brilliance, it was was hard to conceive how the apaswara-riddled yells in the tara sthayi could have stemmed from the same school…

With 2.5 hours at their disposal one would have expected at least 2 bada khyals. Yaman (pronounced Aiman) sounded promising with a 5 minute alaap but the youngster's shaky grip on the raga's fundamentals was already showing, especially in the descent from dhaivat to madhyam. There was an obtuse insinuation about the speaker system after a couple of particularly jarring slips and then an exhortation for the audience to contribute to the "sam" (Samam) - not being familiar with etiquette in an HM environment I was perplexed as to how this was sought to be achieved. I was apparently not alone...

The Vilambit was anything but vilambit in length and soon the sargams and taans were roaring along, bouncing on and off the raag's notes at will...after a breathless and soulless session, Governor Saaheb stepped onto stage and made a request for a "Punjabi Song". I felt like booting the philistine out of the auditorium but the duo on stage were presumably more receptive to the suggestion, promptly launching into a thumri.

With an hour left after Barnala’s retinue had departed, there was still time for a weighty piece but now the artistes decided to indulge the South Indians in the audience with a piece in Kalaavati that was little more than a launching pad for sargams...tolerable enough. but schoolboy-ish stuff for someone used to hearing swara kalpanas day in and day out.

Along came a sufiyaana kalaam and another plea for the audience to clap along...the request being rather more comprehensible this time, the crowd happily obliged. This is the sort of nonsense that one hears every time some 3rd rate crowd puller from the North/West is flown down on a carpet of greenbacks to Chennai. An audience that can't be bothered to put its hands together for the finest alaapanas suddenly feels obliged to give these charlatans a standing ovation. Sanjay Subrahmanyan made a compelling statement against this injustice in an editorial that brought him a prolonged boycott from a well-known sabha in the city.

Having lost my patience and any hope of listening to serious music, I made my way to Marris across the road and rediscovered my soul in a masterfully crafted sambaar- at least somebody's still keeping his gharana intact!

None of my vitriol need be construed as a comment on the greatness of Fateh Ali Khan. As pointed out, this was almost completely his son’s show. Recalling the majesty of his renditions with brother Amaanat Ali Khan, one couldn’t help feeling sorry for this man who was reduced to getting the audience to cheer on his son’s mediocrity with shouts of “very good”, even as his grimaces betrayed his true feelings. Few things could bring greater pain than watching one’s house being brought down – it must take all the force of paternal affection to be a willing participant in such an act.

Colours of Rain, 11th November, 2007

I split Sunday evening between Hariharan’s Ghazal Sandhya and Colours of Rain, conceptualized by Classical Pianist, Anil Srinivasan and Carnatic Vocalist, Sikkil Gurucharan, as a bridge between Western Harmony and Indian Melody. My partial attendance of the latter was further truncated by “paapi pet” which once again sent me rushing towards Marris’ meals well before the curtains fell!

The items that I managed to catch were: Bharathi’s Vellai Thamarai (Abheri/Bhimplas), pieces in Sindhu Bhairavi, a Sadashiva Brahmendra composition in Mishra Khamaj and an excerpt from Shankara’s Madhurashtakam in Madhuvanthi which included a brief alaapana and swaras.

The purist in me was a little skeptical about carnatic music being stripped of its rhythmic tapestry and the need for a keyboard/piano to provide a counterpoint. On the former point, I stand reasonably convinced – there is probably space for a format which allows the subtleties of verse and melody to be freed from their rhythmic leash. The lyric in particular took a bold step into the limelight, emerging from the shadows of its parents, sruthi and laya. The colorlful sets, mood lighting and designer clothes notwithstanding, it was the remarkably modulated voice and the beauty of the verse that grabbed the attention, once Gurucharan got started on a piece.

On the second, my skepticism was only marginally allayed. Anil’s talent on the piano is obvious but it is debatable whether his instrument added any value to the format. He would typically start with some notes from the raga, sound a constant refrain (presumably as a counterpoint which was, admittedly, alien to an ear untutored in western harmonics) and serve up a flourish at the end, almost as a cue for applause. It was, at best, redundant and at worst, intrusive.

Also unclear was the role of BS Purushottaman on the Kanjira. While the Sarangi (Murad Ali Khan) and the Violin (Mysore Srikanth) effectively prefaced and underlined Gurucharan’s vocals, the poor Kanjira vidwan cut a sorry figure on stage, probably aware of the limitations of the concept in allowing for any meaningful percussive contributions. It did not help that, with the exception of Gurucharan/Srikanth, none of the artists on stage were sensitive to the intrinsic rhythm (solkattu) of the pieces, leading the few laya forays he attempted, towards awkward conclusions.

As a bait to draw heads clogged with easy listening towards classical music and perhaps as a vehicle for emphasizing the oft-neglected lyrical aspect of carnatic compositions, the Anil Srinivasan-Gurucharan collaboration serves a useful purpose. But the mind hardened by the assertiveness of mainstream classical music, while engaged by the uniqueness of the concept, felt that the overall effect was…what’s the word…Ah yes! Light…

BTW, what is Dhritiman Chatterjee, Satyajit Ray veteran, doing in the Chennai music scene? I’ve noticed him at least thrice in various concerts over the last few weeks…in one of these, he was presented with a photo-request which went…”you are…15, Park Avenue”?! He gamely obliged…


Rajan and Sajan Mishra, 12th November, 2007

Beneras Gharana maestros Rajan and Sajan Misra performed at the Academy on Monday. An excellent technical review from a highly regarded exponent can be found here:http://www.hindu.com/mp/2007/11/14/stories/2007111450300800.htm
For the view from the layman’s armchair, read on….

Trademark descending brushes against N3 and M2 (how clearly the swaras stand out in a Hindustani rendition!) unambiguously announced Shuddh Kalyan (Mohana Kalyani) although I’d missed the brothers’ introduction. In stark contrast to their cousins from across the border, the Pandits preferred to present the Vilambit as a focal point rather than a sidelight. The official clock was pushing 8 by the time the tara sthayi was unfurled. The younger (Sajan?) sibling struck the more resonant notes with ringing rests distributing the tonal range with equal felicity from the mandra gandhar to taar pancham. The elder seemed slightly flummoxed by the slippery meends around the nishads and madhyams and his halts lacked the assurance of his brother – it must be mentioned, though, that he was suffering from a bad case of cold…in the taan section however, the roles were reversed - The younger had trouble with descents while the elder’s version assumed a Dhrupadiya character in their weight and clarity.

A short composition in Durga (which, I am given to understand, is the equivalent of Shuddha Saveri although the caresses of the Nishadam would probably put it closer to Arabhi) followed before an interval was imposed.

Jhinjhoti was the next major item, presented in Rupak tal with gears shifted to Teental and then Dadra for the Madhya Lay and Drut respectively. The analogy with Kambhoji was immediately apparent with phrases such as PD2S and SR2M1G3 alloyed with the decidedly Hindustani colour of N2D2N2 and occasionally, even N2SD2 (although the latter did not feature in the sargam). Sajan’s dalliance with the notes was just beginning and his grins were getting wider with each perfectly sounded constant.

After a brusque and mesmerizing Megh (Madhyamavati, with a shade of Brindavana Saranga in the Nishadam) the brothers sought the audience’s opinion on a suitable raag for a bhajan. But the crowd, having smelt blood, was in no mood for tukkadas just yet, demanding the heaviness of Darbari even though it was close to 10 PM.

Sajan promised a “glimpse” into the raag. He can count, in addition to his evident musical talents, a gift for understatement – this was no glimpse, it was a manifestation, a torrid affair with the raag devta. With his eyes closed, and lips curled in a curious amalgam of pleasure and pathos, Sajan was the Nayaki on a pleasure-trip with his Nayaka - the Primal Drone - teasing Him with some exquisite glides and holding Him in a comforting clasp at the tonal rests. Alas, the crude audience, whose hands are accustomed to cheering every cheap gimmick thrown their way, desecrated the artist’s union with a patter of scandalously-timed applause and wolf whistles. Sajan opened his eyes in shock, outraged by the full-glare of public attention on a very private moment with his Muse. He put up his hands in helpless frustration and made a request to hold back the applause until the composition was completed. The audience complied but the consummation was already interrupted. What followed was pleasant but no longer divine.

Darbari was concluded at about 11 and a Bhajan in Bhairavi wrapped up the concert. For once I had to skip Marris’ meals but I knew I could count on Burger Man to keep his stall open until mid-night. The roles were reversed this time – the highest adherence to musical tradition but a bit of a compromise on the gastronomic front! “Saaton Sukh to Bhagwaan Raam to bhi nahin mile”….